Page 117 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

He chuckled. “Why, after years of declaring that he would never be caught, of course.”

“Caught?” She didn’t like that interpretation in the least.

“In the mousetrap?”

“Aye. I figured that out.”

“And to a Scots lass, no less.”

She lifted a brow and stared at him until he shuffled from one foot to the other.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

She continued staring because if she responded, it would probably be something she might later regret. Or not.

“I mean, someone like Nick can take it. He doesn’t give a fig for how his reputation is suffering.”

This was getting better and better. She crossed her arms and stared some more.

“I always knew, if he married, it would be for the sake of his family.”

This, she could not let go. “For the sake of his family?”

William blinked. “Ah, of course. You know. The scandal. Surely you realized? The reason he offered for you was because he had to.”

“Is that what he told you?”

He leaned in and she smelled the whisky on his breath. “He didn’t need to, Isobel. Everyone in the ton knows the truth about the two of you.” And yes. The other penny dropped. His expression melted from friendly to snide in a heartbeat. “Everyone knows what you really are.”

“I doubt that.” She tipped her head to the side and smiled at him. It was a special smile she reserved for moments such as this. Thankfully they were few and far between.

He paled a little and his lips worked, probably because he wasn’t used to wee lasses spiking his guns. “I . . . what?”

“I doubt they know what I really am, Lord Swofford. I doubt you do, either.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned closer then, dominating him with her presence. “If you did, you see, you wouldn’t dare speak to me like this, lest you lose a part or two you treasure.”

“I . . . You . . . What?” His sputtering was entertaining.

“Never forget,” she hissed. “I’m a savage Scots lass. I have weapons. And I know how to use them.”

She whirled on her heel and left him then, without so much as a glance back.

He didn’t deserve even that.

* * *

Where the bloody hell was Isobel?

Nick scanned the yard several times before coming to the conclusion she was not there. He was about to send up an alarm when she emerged from the French doors into the garden.

Something about her posture sent a shiver down his spine and he started toward her. When William emerged behind her, caught his eye, and flushed guiltily, Nick broke into a run.

What had happened?

He knew William was resentful of his betrothal to Isobel; he’d always hoped, on some level, Nick would fall for his sister. But he’d never imagined William would say anything untoward to Isobel.